


Nonfatal Impartiality

by GeneratorCat



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alpha Tim Drake, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asexual Jason Todd, Introspection, Jason is baffled by allosexuals, Jason masturbating his way though self-discovery, M/M, Omega Jason Todd, Relationship Negotiation, Tim helps, Tim is really sweet, almost too sweet but whatever, an ace omega, how does that work you ask?, lots of chatting about wants and needs, well let's find out, yes you read that right folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 14:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14917085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneratorCat/pseuds/GeneratorCat
Summary: He’s been trying this new thing where he lets himself have what he wants without over-analyzing every little thing or what his desires say about him as a person. If he wants to spend a day literally doing nothing but reading young adult dystopian novels, that’s fine. If he wants to ride out to the country and sit on the side of a dirt road next to a cornfield, that’s fine. If he wants to spend an hour teasing himself before he jacks off, that’s fine. It’s also fine if he wants to go two months without touching himself. It doesn’t make him weird.He’s been taking each day as it comes and learning about himself, learning that he’s different from what everyone thinks of asJason Todd.Different from what he thought wasJason Todd.





	Nonfatal Impartiality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Master_of_the_Rebels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Master_of_the_Rebels/gifts).



> Well hello!! Welcome to my greatest pride and embarrassment to date. Yes the title is a reference to the movie _Fatal Attraction_ , in that this is the complete opposite. 
> 
> The story deals with asexuality, and I want to remind y'all that there are many different forms and flavors to asexuality, and this is not meant to represent or encompass all of them. But I hope it can be relatable or helpful in some way to someone. 
> 
> This is also a/b/o but it's milder than that sort of thing usually is. Like, it's not fuck or die and the characters still have some control over themselves and their decisions. 
> 
> Also, it's kind of dom/sub? Bit not really, not enough for me to tag it (I don't think-- tell me if I'm wrong please). I don't really see it that way but maybe someone else might, I just don't know anymore. Either way it's super tame. 
> 
> Last, big thanks to masteroftherebels who helped this come about by reccing me the fic that inspired this one <33 And for just being a really cool friend :D

“What in the hell are you _ doing? _ ” Jason yells at the huge screen as Amy and Jonah kiss. Jonah is going out with Kelly and Amy is pregnant with her ex-husband’s baby, this is literally the worst thing they could be doing right now. Jonah isn’t even in rut and Amy’s definitely not in heat since she’s already knocked up, so there’s no excuse for this. It’s so fucking stupid. Jason doesn’t get why it’s happening. Why do movies and shows always do shit like this? For ratings, sure, to stir up that drama, but for fuck’s sake, no rational person would act like this! Except he remembers plenty of times that people he knows have made these types of terrible decisions, so maybe everyone is irrational. Everyone except Jason. 

He sighs in disgust. He really likes this show, other than all of the will-they-won’t-they bullshit, but now it’s just pissing him off. 

Really, it’s not that hard to just  _ not _ kiss someone. Jason does it all the time. 

When the episode ends he debates whether he wants to keep watching, but there’s only one episode left of the season so he might as well. But first, he needs food. 

Jason leaves the theater room and makes his way through the manor halls to the kitchen. It’s kind of weird to be here when he’s not working, not using the Bat Computer in the Bat Cave, but he woke up in his apartment this morning and felt the quiet pressing down on him like a thick blanket– which usually he loves and finds comfortable, but today it made him feel stifled and ansty. So he came here. Just to be in the general vicinity of other people. It’s not something he needs very often, and it’s a little unsettling, but more unsettling would be to have stayed home in solitude today. 

Dick’s in the kitchen slapping together a messy sandwich. “Oh hey, Jay,” he says with mild surprise. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Good.” Opening the fridge door, Jason scans his options. He pulls a face. Everything in here is really unappetizing, even the leftover lasagna, which is his favorite. Maybe he’s coming down with something, he thinks as his stomach turns. He does feel funky, slightly flushed and like his body doesn’t fit him anymore. Settling for a bag of baby carrots, he props himself up on one of the stools lining the island, leaning his elbows on the counter and letting the fridge door slam shut behind him. 

“Yes, you’re very sneaky,” Dick says indulgently. “Congrats. What are–” Dick pauses, head tilted to the side, eyebrows drawing together. 

Jason bites through a carrot with a satisfyingly loud  _ snap _ . “What are what?” he asks when Dick doesn’t finish. 

“Who were you around today?”

“What?” 

“You smell. Like heat. But it’s…” Dick trails off.  

“What the hell does it matter to you,” Jason asks, automatically defensive. Dick has no right to demand to know who Jason spends his time with, especially not when it comes to… “Wait, what? What heat?”

“I’m not trying to keep tabs on you or anything,” Dick assures him with a small shake of his head. He goes back to slathering mayonnaise all over his sandwich. “It just threw me off for a second. I didn’t expect to smell heat on you.”

“I really smell like heat?” Pulling the front of his shirt up to his nose, Jason sniffs at the fabric. Then his arm. He just smells himself. 

“It’s not very strong, but yeah.”

Jason shrugs. “Well I guess you’d know better than me.” 

Dick’s alpha nose is way more sensitive to that sort of stuff than Jason’s. It’s pretty much the only thing Jason’s ever resented about being a beta; he can’t sniff out people the way most of the rest of the Bats can. 

Then again he doesn’t have to go through ruts or heats, so. He’ll take it. 

It’s weird though… Jason hasn’t been around any omegas recently. Definitely not long enough to actually have their smell on him. 

Jason stands, the legs of the stool screeching a few inches across the tile floor, and snatches a banana from the fruit bowl on his way out, carrots still in his other hand. “Later,” he grunts at Dick. 

Back in the theater room he eats his snack and watches as Jonah breaks up with his girlfriend and Amy’s ex-husband offers to get back together with her and then she and Jonah start making out like animals and Jason rolls his eyes so hard it hurts. 

His lower back starts to get sore, so he shifts around, trying to find a better position but it doesn’t help much. He’s probably just been sitting too long. 

The season ends on the cliffhanger of Amy and Jonah’s ill-fated, relationship-altering kiss, leaving Jason frustrated and annoyed at himself for actually falling for it because he already knows he’s going to watch the next season when it premiers. He needs to know what happens between them and hates himself for it. 

That stifling feeling is growing again, the one from when he woke up, and the room is too quiet with the show not running, so Jason turns off the system and takes his bag of carrots back to the fridge. The kitchen is empty. It makes him feel empty. Without thinking too much about why he’s doing it, Jason heads down to the cave where he knows at least one person will be working. 

He’s been trying this new thing where he lets himself have what he wants without over-analyzing every little thing or what his desires say about him as a person. If he wants to spend a day literally doing nothing but reading young adult dystopian novels, that’s fine. If he wants to ride out to the country and sit on the side of a dirt road next to a cornfield, that’s fine. If he wants to spend an hour teasing himself before he jacks off, that’s fine. It’s also fine if he wants to go two months without touching himself. It doesn’t make him weird. 

He’s been taking each day as it comes and learning about himself, learning that he’s different from what everyone thinks of as  _ Jason Todd. _ Different from what  _ he _ thought was  _ Jason Todd. _

So if he wants to come to the manor and actually be around people, well. It’s okay. He can let himself have that. He can let himself have that without letting it make him feel weak, feel defeated. Mostly. 

Dick and Tim are both in the cave when he gets there, Dick stuffing his face with the remains of his monstrosity of a sandwich and Tim leaning over a microscope while the computer next to him runs a detailed analysis of whatever it is he’s studying. 

“This is so wild,” Tim mumbles distractedly, eye glued to the scope. “This DNA has been spliced and mutated so much it can’t even be called human anym–” He cuts off, standing straight and glancing around in confusion. Then his focus catches on Jason and he stills. “Jason.”

Jason frowns. Tim’s looking at him strangely. “Tim.” 

Tim blinks hard, sucking in a harsh breath. “What’s– who were you with earlier?”

“Why is everyone asking me that?”

“I told you,” Dick says from his seat a few feet away. “You smell like heat.”

“That doesn’t make any damn sense, I haven’t been near an omega.”

Spinning around in his chair, Dick shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, little wing. I think it’s getting stronger though.”

“How could it be getting stronger,” Jason demands. “There’s no one else here. I don’t even know where it came fr–”  

Jason stops, snapping his attention from Dick to Tim, who has been slowly stepping closer and now is well past what Jason considers to be the threshold for personal space. Leaning in, Tim sniffs him. His eyes shoot wide and he looks up at Jason for a long moment before he says, “It’s you.” 

The computer beeps, sending out the alert that it’s done with the mutated DNA diagnostic.

“What?”

“It’s you,” Tim says, voice resolute. “You’re the omega.” He breathes, and it comes tumbling out of him in a shaky rush. “You’re the one in heat.” 

Taking a quick step back Jason snaps, “The fuck are you talking about, I’m a beta.” 

“You thought you were a beta because you never presented otherwise,” Dick points out. “Could be you’re just a late bloomer.” 

“I’m a grown man, people don’t suddenly present this late,” Jason argues. 

“It happens, sometimes. You were– you died around the time people usually present and then your body went through so much shit afterwards. The whole… Lazarus pit thing could have affected your system.” 

“That’s ridiculous, I’m not– Tim, get away from me!” 

Tim jumps back, and then stumbles away even further, shaking his head roughly.

“Shit! Shit, I’m sorry. Seriously, I’m sorry. You just… you smell really good. That’s not an excuse!” he starts, seeing Jason’s mouth open for the same argument. “I know! Your pheromones are not consent,” he says firmly. 

“My… pheromones.” Jason swallows. His _ pheromones. _ His  _ heat. _ “I– I need to go home. Right now.” 

“Wait–”

“But–”

“I swear if either of you try to alpha me I will shove Nightwing’s escrima sticks right up both your asses,” Jason growls, and both men freeze in place. Jason sighs deeply. It’s supposed to be a calming breath but instead his nose and lungs and mind are filled with  _ alpha, _ which is surreal since he’s never really picked up on alpha before. Not this strongly. Not this flavor. It’s  _ interested _ alpha,  _ protective _ alpha, though he can’t tell which of them the interest is coming from; he really doesn’t want to know. It makes Jason choke a little on his next breath. “I’m going home to– to sort this out. No one follow me. No one bring me food. No one offer to fuck me. No one even  _ think _ about claiming me.

“This is probably just some fluke any way. I don’t need your help. I’ll work it out on my own.”

And with that he leaves, feeling Dick and Tim watch him on his way out. 

He’ll just go home and… sort this out, like he said. It could still be the flu, or something. Some bad seafood. (He doesn’t eat seafood.) 

Hell, maybe by the time he gets back to his apartment it’ll all be gone. He’ll be totally fine.

~

It’s not gone. 

He’s not fine. 

Well, he is. He’s fine. He’s  _ fine. _ He’s not dying or anything. It’s just that he feels really hot and, like, there’s this sensation running under his skin like a string after it’s been plucked– thrumming energy. His back hurts more and the soreness has spread to his hips and thighs and knees and his tummy feels pulled taut with tension and there’s a headache starting to form… But it’s fine. Jason’s been through worse. 

He’s not overly concerned with the heat itself– if that is what it is. Sure, it’ll suck, but it’s not completely unbearable. There are plenty of omegas out there that go through heats alone, by choice or not. It’s not exactly fun, but it’s manageable. He can order a bunch of food so he doesn’t have to worry about feeding himself, and then hunker down and ride out the… side-effects of the heat by himself. He’ll get  _ super _ acquainted with his own hand. 

The heat isn’t a problem. 

Jason just really, really doesn’t want to be an omega. 

He doesn’t want people to view him as some mewling, mindless, sex-crazed animal. It’s disgusting but that’s still the stereotype for omegas. There are still people out there that don’t even think omegas can make decisions for themselves. He doesn’t want to be patronised and condescended to. He doesn’t want to be treated like a thing–  a thing to fuck, a thing to provide for, a thing that needs help. He doesn’t want to be hunted and chased.

Some alphas don’t act that way. He knows that. It’s just that now, every alpha he meets will be a threat. He’ll always have to be careful. 

Some omegas like being taken care of in the traditional way, he knows that too. And that’s totally fine for them. But it’s not what Jason wants. He had no interest in people before, and that shouldn’t change just because his body suddenly needs to be fucked once a month. 

Speaking of getting fucked…

Lying on his couch, Jason starts to think his flimsy flu excuse is about to be debunked for good. The heat hasn’t set in yet, but it’s definitely coming and it feels different to anything Jason’s experienced before. He’s had the flu. This isn’t it. 

Dragging himself up, he pulls over his laptop and makes a few online orders to local restaurants. He turns off the security measures that would usually stop the delivery people from reaching the door. 

He pops  _ Hairspray _ into the dvd player and sings along to  _ Good Morning, Baltimore. _

He waits. 

Over the next hour several deliveries arrive; pizza and Chinese and Indian and subs and more pizza because the first place has the best crust but the second is unsurpassed in sauce. 

When Jason opens the door for the guy delivering the subs he sniffs at Jason without even trying to be discreet about it. He leans against the door jam and into Jason's personal space, glancing around what he can see of the apartment, and smiles. “All alone, baby?”

“You’re not truly alone if you’ve got a dozen turkey subs,” Jason says pointedly, looking at the bag hanging from the guy’s fingers.  

“Turkey subs won’t help you feel as good as I can. You want me to come in and make you feel good?” 

Jason’s skin crawls. “You know what would make me feel really good?”

“Tell me,” he says with a smarmy grin. 

“Ripping your dick off,” Jason answers. He quickly grabs the bag out of the man’s hand and delivers a neat punch to his stomach that sends him tumbling back. 

Jason slams the door shut and re-engages the security system. If the guy isn’t out of the building in sixty seconds he’ll be taken care of. Jason doesn’t really care whether or not he makes it out in time. He files a complaint on the restaurant's website and then pushes the whole experience out of his brain. 

And then it’s just Jason. Jason and his food and the feeling of warmth twisting up his insides and the sense that his home is too empty. That  _ he’s _ too empty. 

He makes it through  _ Hairspray _ and seven minutes into  _ Legally Blonde _ before it hits. 

It’s not that bad at first. Makes Jason think the whole heat might not be too bad. Most omegas have pretty intense heats, but some just don’t. Maybe he got lucky there. 

He gets hard and, well. There’s really no point in trying to hold off. He knows what the next couple days will be about. So he pulls down the sweatpants he’d changed into when he got home and pauses the movie. He can’t touch himself with the tv playing, it’s distracting, and he wants to pick up where he left off when he’s done with this. 

He wraps a hand around his dick and strokes. It’s probably the shortest masterbatory session he’s ever had, but he feels a little better after. Feels like he could actually eat something without his stomach revolting, so he grabs one of the pizzas and settles down with the box open on his lap and resumes the movie. 

Twenty minutes later the pizza box is half-empty on the coffee table and Jason is pulling at his cock with more urgency than last time. His panting breaths are loud in the quiet room. Hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead and he raises his free hand to push it back, then lets it rest on the back of the couch behind his head, grabbing on and giving him some leverage to lift his hips up into his fist. One foot braces against the low table in front of him but almost immediately shoves it forward, disrupting his rhythm. Jason groans in frustration. In desperation. 

Turning, he kicks his feet up onto the end of the couch and flops back to lie with his head on the armrest. He yanks the sweatpants down and off. After about two seconds his right leg slides off the cushion, foot planting against the rug. The left leg bends and then his right stretches to the side even further, and he realises his body is trying to spread himself open in an invitation to someone who’s not even there. Jason is a spiteful bitch sometimes so he forces his legs shut. It feels wrong and right away he lets them fall open again. Whatever. Maybe this is one of those things he can just let himself have without overthinking it. That’s fine. He doesn’t need to spite himself. He needs to come to terms with what he needs, and accept it, and move on. 

Moving on in this case means pulling his legs as wide as they can comfortably go and touching his balls with one hand and his dick with the other until he comes for the second time, with a sound that’s less like the grunting he’s used to and more… well. It’s a whine. 

Jason takes a long moment, blinking up at the ceiling, to regulate his breathing and then hoists himself up off the couch and gets cleaned up, wiping the come off his chest and… well if there was any doubt before that he’s an omega it’s gone when he realises he’s slick in a place he’s never been slick before. Tucking that aside in his mind for the moment, he transfers the movie and pizza, along with a container of egg rolls, to his bedroom, figuring the couch might not meet his needs next time. 

It only takes a few minutes the third time around before he’s all worked up again, spread out on his bed and touching everywhere. But– but not  _ everywhere, _ not yet. But he can feel it, this need pulling his fingers closer and closer and it’s– its not weird, right? Hell it’s what he’s supposed to do, he’s in heat for fuck’s sake. For the sake of a fuck– of many fucks– which his body is craving so desperately he’s almost overwhelmed by it, he needs to… fuck himself. 

Closing his eyes, Jason tentatively moves one finger to rest over his asshole. Holding his breath, he rubs. 

_ “Fuck,” _ he moans. 

This is– why hasn’t he done this before? Why is everyone not doing this all the time? Maybe it just feels better for omegas or something, especially omegas in heat. Jason didn’t know it would actually feel good, that it would be something he could like and want. 

But he does like it. And he really wants it. Wants more. 

Carefully, Jason pushes the tip of his finger inside. 

“Fuck,” he pants. “Fuck, god, f-fuck.” 

Jason’s touched himself countless times. He’s been eager to get off. He’s chased after orgasms or let them build slowly, and enjoyed almost all off them. But this, the way he feels right now, is something else. Something he hasn’t felt before: 

The inexplicable and absolute  _ need _ to  _ get fucked. _

The (slowly diminishing) logical part of his brain is revolted by it. It makes him feel bad. It makes him feel cheap and vulnerable. His mind flashes through bits of porn he’s seen of omegas spreading themselves open and begging to be fucked and saying the dirtiest things Jason’s ever heard. He never understood– just could not comprehend– the desire to be used like that, thrown around and manhandled and held down and fucked by another person. To give yourself so completely to someone. Let them do whatever they want. Some alpha that thinks they own you or won you or have a right to you. Have power over you. 

He still doesn’t understand why people do it but, as he pushes his finger deeper into himself, he starts to understand the desire behind it. Where that need comes from. If there was an alpha in this room right now… he wouldn’t give himself over to them. He just couldn’t do that. But he might want to use their body. Actually– scratch that. He doesn’t want another person around. He wants… he wants to be touched and stroked and lit up. He wants something around his cock and he wants something inside his ass and he has that right now, with his own two hands, but if there was a way to have all that satisfaction without having to do the work himself, that would be ideal. Awesome, in fact. 

Unfortunately there’s no way to have that because someone’s gotta be doing the work, either him or another person, so he’s happy with himself. He can’t imagine being comfortable enough with someone else to let them see him and hear him and experience this with him right now. No matter how badly he needs to be fucked. 

But he’s doing a pretty good job of that all by himself, one finger moving in and out and back in, drawing out long moans. His hand and ass and thighs are all wet but he actually doesn’t mind. It’s kind of fascinating, how slick his body can get. It eases the burn of the stretch, but that’s still a little uncomfortable so he goes slowly. But even slow, the feeling of being filled is so viscerally satisfying that his legs tremble with the tension building, growing, feeding, until he’s able to move faster but it’s not enough so he adds a second finger, slow again at first to let himself adjust but then faster and deeper and rougher and more, more,  _ more. _

He comes for the third time that day. Keeps his fingers tucked inside himself for a minute because, at just the thought of being empty, his body clenches down, unwilling to let go. Eventually though he eases out and goes to wash his hands in the bathroom. Part of him wants to shower but it’s pointless when he’ll just being getting dirty again in a few minutes. Also, he’s vaguely horrified to find, part of him loves being covered in slick and come. 

No, not horrified. It’s fine. If that’s what he likes, it’s totally okay. He’s cool with it. 

So many new things he’s learning about himself, all in one day. 

When he crawls back into bed Jason realises the sun is setting and he is exhausted. He resumes  _ Legally Blonde _ and watches and eats and breathes and eventually nods off, opening his eyes to find the sky black and the credits rolling and a half-eaten egg roll laying on his chest. Also, he’s so wet he slips on his blanket when he moves to sit up.

There’s fire licking up his hips and his lower back is  _ throbbing. _ His ass is  _ clenching. _ A needy whine slips through his lips and he shoves two fingers inside of himself before he can even think about it. He’s never been so worked up in his whole life. Not even when he was a teenager, discovering the magic of orgasms for the first time. He fucks himself onto his fingers, but it’s an awkward angle. He tries sitting on his knees and that’s better, but he just can’t move his body fast enough or strong enough to be truly satisfying so he ends up holding still and moving his hand instead. With a whimper he falls forward, face smushed into a fluffy pillow and ass in the air and he lets out a broken, gratified sob. 

He adds a third finger that takes very little time to adjust to, feels like his body could take a fourth finger, a fifth, a whole damn hand. He  _ knows _ it can’t, so he doesn’t try, but something deep inside is greedy for more, bigger, harder. He wants– he wants a cock. Or a cock equivalent. One not attached to a person. Distantly, in the small part of his brain that’s still working, he knows that’s a thing. Dildos are a thing. It’s just that that doesn’t help him right now because he doesn’t own one. But he thinks about it, about a dildo being pressed inside him and he gasps, squirming, legs spreading further, arm bent back at an uncomfortable angle but he can’t stop fucking into himself and can’t stop imagining something bigger and better-suited than his fingers. He just wants to be fucked, wants to– “be fucked wanna be fucked please, fuck  _ fuck _ n-need– I–” 

Jason comes, toes curling, jaw dropped open around a pathetic wail. His fingers keep moving in and out and he’s too sensitive but they keep moving and he needs to lay down and rest but they keep moving and his hand is starting to cramp but they keep moving and he realises he hasn't even touched his dick yet– came just from the fingers in his ass (the ones that keep moving)– so he does that, grabs his cock and strokes and a minute later he’s coming again and finally, finally his arm drops to the bed. His body tips over to lie on his side and he stares blankly at the far wall.

He stares until he can breathe (almost) evenly again and edges to the side of the bed. Swings his legs down and stands on jelly legs. For the first time he wishes there was someone else here, if only to bring him water and change the messy sheets for him. 

He washes up a little and takes a few hasty bites of cold chicken curry and then goes online, dildo hunting. The fastest delivery he can find is Amazon’s one-day shipping and that’s great, hurray for technology, but one day is about twenty three hours and sixteen minutes too long. He needs one soon.  _ Now. _

Red Hood has connections that can get him any damn thing he might need in an instant, but he doesn’t trust them. He’s not about to let some random thug into his building to hand off a dildo, even just leaving it on the floor outside his door. Jason knows they’d be able to smell his heat and does  _ not _ want to deal with anything that might come after. There aren’t many people he’d trust to be anywhere near his apartment right now. Even less is the number of people he could ask to buy him a sex toy without dying of humiliation. (He can’t call Alfred for this. He’d honestly rather just die.) Considering who’s out of town, and even off-planet, that just leaves… 

Jason grabs his phone off the nightstand and unlocks it with shaky fingers. His body is in this unsettling limbo between satiated and anticipating. As the line rings out he takes another bite of chicken. 

“Are you okay?” Dick asks. 

Jason swallows. “I need a favor.”

“Jason,” he sighs, “I’m not comfort–”

“I need you to bring me a dildo. Or two. Whatever they have in stock.” When Dick doesn’t respond right away Jason adds, “Sooner the better.” 

“You’re okay,” Dick asks again. 

“I’m fucking peachy, dickhead, now bring me an arsenal of sex toys!” 

“Okay, yeah I can–” there’s noise in the background and some muffled voices. Then, “Gosh, you know, I’m just. Knee-deep in this case I’m working super hard on... Could I send Tim instead?” 

“Dickie,” Jason warns. “I called  _ you _ for a reason.”

“I know. And I appreciate your trust. It means the world to me.” Jason scoffs and Dick ignores it. “But you can trust Tim too, okay? I promise. He wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.” 

He knows that. He knows Tim won’t make fun of him for this and won’t try to push himself onto Jason in any way. It’s just… Tim and Jason are barely friends. Certainly not brothers. He doesn’t know which of those he considers Dick to be, but either way there’s a level of trust and affection there that he doesn’t quite have with Tim. 

But he doesn’t have a lot of time or options left, so. 

“Fine.”

“Great. So is there anything in specific you want? Size? Color? Want a vibrator?” 

“Um. I don’t know, man, just. Whatever. Like I said, just a bunch of different stuff. Oh, and ice cream. I want mint chocolate chip ice cream.” 

“Mint chocolate chip,” Dick murmurs, as if he’s writing down an order. “Got it. I’ll tell Tim to text you when he’s close.”

“Thanks.”

“Good luck!”

Jason hangs up. He’s got at least half an hour before Tim arrives. 

He takes a nap. 

Loud ringing wakes him, and he blearily answers the incoming call. “Yeah?” he says, voice rough. 

“It’s Tim. Are you okay?” 

“‘M fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve been calling for two whole minutes. I was this close to disarming your security and breaking into the building.”

“Oh?” Jason sits up. “Oh. So you’re here?” 

“Yeah, can you let me up?”  

“Just a sec.” Jason stumbles out of the bedroom and turns off the system. “You’re clear. Just leave the stuff outside the door. E5.” 

Through the line he hears a  _ ding _ and the whoosh of the elevator doors sliding open. “Okay, yeah, no problem. I’ll, uh. Just. Listen–” Tim takes in a deep breath and his words come out in a rush, “I will absolutely leave if you want me to, just say the word and I’m gone, but I could also, like, come inside? Your apartment? I could help you out. Not– not like that, okay, just to um. Make sure you’re okay and get you anything you need and heat up food so you don’t have to get up and bring you Gatorade or whatever. I’ve done it for Steph a few times. We never have sex or anything, I just. I’m just there for whatever she needs. Like a nurse, or something. And I could do that for you. If. If that’s something you want.” 

Jason’s standing with his forehead braced against the wall, knees feeling like they’re going to buckle any minute. He’s so tired and over-sensitive and yet he can feel the heat growing again and it won’t be long until he needs to take care of it. He can’t believe he isn’t even through the first day of this. This shit is exhausting. 

“Jason?”

He grunts. “Hold on. Thinking.”

“Okay.”

After a minute, in which Jason hears Tim exit the elevator, he decides, “I’m gonna call Brown.”

“Alright.” 

He pulls up Stephanie’s number. He can hear Tim’s footstep approaching from down the hall. 

“Hello?”

“You let Tim take care of you when you’re in heat?”

A silent moment, and then, “Yup.” 

He likes Stephanie. A no-nonsense kind of person. (Unless she can get a laugh out the nonsense, then she’s a very-nonsense kind of person. But this isn’t a thing to be laughing over.) 

“He never touches you or anything?”

“Not once. He usually gets a boner because, like, hello, the place is a hot-box of pheremones, but. He never does anything about it. And, it helps to have his alpha pheromones around. My heats are almost always worse when I’m alone.”

“And you– you feel safe with him there?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Jason breathes. “Okay, thanks.”

“You’re welcome, dude.”

They hang up. 

Jason can practically feel Tim waiting patiently on the other side of the door. He could tell him to leave right now, and he knows Tim would do it. 

The prospect of having someone bring him water and change his sheets and make him food is… really nice. Wasn’t he just wishing for this very thing earlier? And it’s being taken care of, but not… he doesn’t think it’ll make him feel helpless, or patronised. If anything, the thought of ordering Tim to service him is… again, really nice. In fact, he feels a rush of heat at that mental image, and, well. He made a vow to stop over-analyzing what his desires say about him as a person so he’s not going to unpack that. It’s not like it’s anything bad. Tim is volunteering. And Jason wouldn’t even be doing anything to him, just asking for stuff. So. 

So. 

So Jason lets himself have this. 

He cracks open the door. 

Tim sucks in a sharp breath. “Hey!” He coughs. “Hey.”

“You good?”

“Yeah, just. Was surprised.” Tim shifts his weight from right to left. “I’m sorry, by the way, about earlier in the cave. I shouldn’t gotten so close. I was, uh. Su– caught off guard. I won’t do that again, I swear.”  

Jason nods. “You got my ice cream?” 

“Yeah, and. Yeah.” 

Jason swings the door all the way open, eyes watching Tim’s like a hawk’s. 

Tim sets his face, determined, and doesn’t let his gaze fall to anything below Jason’s jawline.

Jason plants a hand on one naked hip, cocking it to the side. Waiting. Daring. 

Tim presses his lips together in a hard line.

It’s a stare-down of wild west proportions, to be sure. Jason’s not embarrassed to be seen naked, and only mildly ashamed of the sweat and slick and come covering his body. Or, not  _ ashamed, _ just. It’s not for anyone else to see. It’s for him and no one else has any right to it. 

But Tim’s not acting like he has any right to Jason or what’s happening to him. He’s definitely interested, Jason can smell that now– the same interest from before in the cave– but that’s a pretty natural response for an alpha standing in front of a naked omega in heat. Tim can’t help the way his pheromones are slowly drifting into the room and mixing with Jason’s, but he’s not acting on it. He can control himself. 

It dissolves some of the unease in Jason’s chest. 

Eventually Jason breaks the silence. “Grounds rules: do whatever I say and keep your dick in your pants. Got it?” 

Very seriously, Tim confirms, “Got it.”

Jason watches him closely for another moment and then, “Okay, come in.” 

Carrying two large duffel bags, Tim does. Jason re-engages the security system. 

“What all did you bring?”

“Well first,” Tim says, dropping the bags on the living room rug and unzipping one, “ice cream.” He tosses a half-gallon tub over his shoulder, which Jason catches gleefully.

“Oh god, yes,” he groans, already digging around the kitchen for a spoon. 

“I also picked up some popsicles; Stephanie likes them when she’s in heat. And I brought Alfred’s grilled chicken and mixed veggies,” he offers, shaking a container that sounds like carrots and broccoli and green beans, pulling a face at it. Jason makes grabby hands and Tim promptly slides it over.

It’s still warm. Must have been made right before Tim left. “How did Alfred get this ready so fast?”

“It was already cooked when you called. We were about to sit down for a late dinner so I just took all the food off the table.” 

Jason stills, a forkful of vegetables raised to his lips. “You… took the food off the table?” 

“Yup.”

“Please tell me Bruce was already sitting down to eat.”

“He managed to get one bite before I snaked his plate away.”

Jason laughs. “That’s awesome!” he says, happily trying the chicken. God, he didn’t realise how hungry he was. “What else did you steal for me?”

“All the, uh. The sex stuff.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s two in the morning,” he explains. “None of the shops are open this late, so I broke in and left cash and a note on the register.” 

“What did the note say,  _ Sorry there’s a heat-related emergency? _ ” 

“Basically, yeah. I would have stolen the ice cream too, but Walgreens is twenty-four hours.” 

Jason eats, quietly touched that Tim went through so much trouble for him. It’s sweet, but… “You wouldn’t have done all of that if I wasn’t an omega, right?”

“Well. No. But you wouldn’t need me to if you weren’t an omega. I don’t ever bring you cold medicine, but I would if you were sick.”

“Would you?” 

“Sure,” Tim says, looking down. 

_ Why, _ Jason wants to ask, but instead he lets out a soft gasp as a wave of heat rolls through him. It’s been building the past few minutes but he’s been distracted, but he’s overly aware of it now. 

“You okay?” 

“It’s starting.” Jason abandons his food on the counter and heads for the bedroom. He stops, remembering, “The stuff, I need the–” 

Tim’s already grabbing the unopened duffel bag and handing it over. “Here. I already opened all the packages and cleaned the toys, it’s all good to go.”

“Thanks.” Jason swallows. Blinks hard. “Don’t come in, okay? I’ll text you when I’m done.”

“Of course. I brought my tablet and headphones, don’t worry about me listening.” 

“Thanks,” he says again. And then he turns and goes back into his room, shutting the door behind him, already feeling the wetness between his legs with each step. He drops the duffel on the foot of the bed and opens it up to find… well, Jason had said to bring every damn thing, and that’s exactly what Tim did. Jason doesn’t even recognise some of the stuff in there. He’ll have to take some time to sort it all out, but he doesn’t have that time right now so he grabs a hot pink, rubbery dildo of modest size and lies down on his back. 

He starts with fingers again, but he’s still pretty loose from last time so it doesn’t take long before he’s able to switch to the toy. The fact that he’s so open and wet and the toy just slides right in… it’s somehow hotter than the actual sensation of the thing being pressed inside him. Not that that isn’t good. It is. It’s fucking great. So much better than fingers,  _ god. _

He feels so full and something inside him is so, so appeased by that. 

“Yes,” he whines, chest heaving. “Fucking–  _ yes _ .” 

He moves a little faster, presses in  _ deep, _ and  _ moans, _ open and  _ loud. _

Hopefully Tim really does have his headphones on. 

He doesn’t love the fact that Tim is in the next room, but it doesn’t make him as uncomfortable as he thought it might. He’s pretty much past caring at this point. 

He briefly pictures Tim fucking into him but that’s weird. Not the kind of weird that he should just accept about himself, it’s an unpleasant weird and he really doesn’t want it. Or, it’s not that he  _ doesn’t want it, _ he just… doesn’t really want it. He’s kind of… indifferent to the thought of Tim fucking him. On one hand, he wants to be fucked. On the other, Tim is not sexually appealing. Those two things cancel each other out and he’s left wishing Tim were some kind of android that could do all the work but, like, not be a person. 

Does that exist? Someone has to have built that by now. Actually, Tim might know. 

Anyway. All this thinking about Tim is distracting him, so Jason pushes that away and gets back to fucking himself hard and fast, and then slow and deep, and then hard and fast and deep and rough and he wraps his other hand around his cock and finds himself whispering, then grunting, then practically yelling, “Fuck me, fuck– god y-yes ah,  _ Ah! _ More more  _ more more, fuck!”  _

He doesn’t even know who he’s asking to fuck him.

He’s so– there’s flame rolling around inside of him, want and  _ need _ crashing through his body and he realises distantly that part of it is because of the alpha pheromones coming in from under the door. They’re setting his brain on fire and making him feel more than he thought a body could feel, every fiber of his sheets rubbing against his back, every drop of sweat sliding down face. Every millimeter and groove of the toy inside him. It’s almost too much. He’s not sure he can handle so much input, so much stimuli. 

Why did Stephanie say this would be better? All Tim’s presence is doing is making Jason feel crazed. 

“Oh god fuck yes!” Jason shouts for what feels like the hundredth time, his body clenching tight and then releasing in a scalding rush of– not bliss, because it’s honestly too intense for that, but. It’s something, and a lot of it, and come splatters all the way up his chest. 

He slides the toy out and goes limp. 

Ah. Maybe that’s why Stephanie said it’s good to have an alpha around. Because that was one hell of an orgasm and, for the first time all day, he feels satiated. 

With the last of his energy Jason fumbles for his phone and sends off a quick message. 

Ten seconds later Tim is knocking at the door. “Can I come in?”

Jason grunts something affirmative. He drags his eyes open as Tim approaches, holding a bottle of water with a twisty straw coming out the top. 

“Here,” he says, and holds it up to Jason’s lips so he can drink. “Can I clean you up? Will you let me?” 

Jason’s eyes drop closed and he nods weakly. 

Soon there’s a cool rag gently wiping off the mess on his torso and thighs and hands and everywhere. It’s somehow not mortifying. 

“What do you need?” Tim asks, voice soft.

“Sleep,” Jason mumbles. “I think I can finally… sleep.”

“Okay that’s good. Can you stay awake long enough more me to put on fresh sheets? You’ll sleep so much better in a clean bed.” 

Jason forces himself out of the hazy state he’s falling into, just enough to let Tim help him stand up. He shuffles to the bathroom. “Bring me a popsicle. Cherry.”

When he comes back Tim is dropping fluffed pillows into place. With a contented groan Jason drops into bed, curling up in his nest of blankets. Tim hands him the popsicle. 

“Anything else?” 

“Put on  _ You’ve Got Mail. _ ”

Tim does. 

“This is so great,” Jason says around the last of his popsicle. Tim takes the stick from him when he’s finished. 

Jason falls asleep. 

~

He wakes up to warm sunlight streaming in through the window. It’s too warm, actually, and Jason throws the covers off, only to find that the overwhelming heat is coming from himself. Turning his head he spots a few toys lined up on the nightstand, and he grabs the closest one. 

A few minutes later he finishes and stretches, smacking dry lips. He’s hungry and thirsty and doesn’t want to get up to go to the kitchen– but hey, he doesn’t have to get up, does he. Tim is here. 

He sends a text and Tim comes in immediately. 

“Can I get you something?” he asks, and it doesn’t sound like a waiter taking an order, it sounds like he genuinely wants to be of service. So Jason lets him. 

“Yeah, there should be some beef fried rice in the fridge. Heat it up for me?”

When Jason’s comfortably propped up against the pillows with a bowl of rice in his lap he asks, “So why are you doing this? Isn’t it some kind of torture for you to be around an omega in heat and not be able to fuck them?” 

Tim shrugs, perched on the end of the bed. “I like it. Seriously,” he adds when Jason’s eyebrow raises skeptically, “I do. I won’t lie and say I don’t want to– to have sex with you, but what I want more than that is to take care of you. I like taking care of people I care about.”  

“You care about me?” 

“Well. Yeah.” Tim clears his throat. Says lightly, “Wouldn’t go through this torture for just anybody, you know.”  

Jason hums. “Just me and Brown? I’m honored,” he deadpans, although he is flattered. He didn’t know Tim liked him that much. 

“It’s a little different with Steph. I guess it’s easier since we’re so comfortable with each other, and I don’t actually want to mess around with her when she’s not in heat.”

“What?”

“I’m not attracted to her, it’s just the ph–”

“No I got that, but. That’s different from me?” 

Tim snaps his mouth shut.

“You… you were attracted to me before the heat hit?” 

Slowly, Tim nods. “Does that make you uncomfortable? I can leave.” 

“No, no. It’s fine. I think. So are you here because your alpha brain is telling you to take care of the helpless omega, or… Or is it because you like me.”  

“You’re not helpless. And no, that’s not it. I don’t go around bringing ice cream to every omega I know. I just like you,” he says, less hesitantly now that it’s out in the open.  

Jason asks, “Are  _ you _ uncomfortable? Am I messing with your feelings by having you help me out with my heat when you like me? Because I don’t like you back, not like that.”

“I know you don’t,” Tim answers with a small smile. “No, I’m fine. I just want you to be happy and healthy, and since you don’t have someone to take of you, I’ll do it for now. ‘Til you find someone better.”

“It’s not– it’s not about someone  _ better, _ Tim, it’s just… someone. I’m not interested in being with anyone. I couldn’t care less about having sex with another person. That’s just not something I need.” 

Carefully, Tim asks, “Is it just the sex? Or are you not into people at all?”

“What do you mean?”

Tim re-situates, folding his legs in criss-cross. “What I’m asking is, do you have any  _ romantic _ interest in people. Putting aside the sexual aspect– let’s say that wasn’t an issue, would you want to be with someone?” 

“If… if you take away the sex, then you have… What’s the difference between that and friendship?” Even as he asks it though, Jason knows. Kind of. He doesn’t think he’s felt it before, but he knows there’s something else in the mix in a relationship. In his head there’s a Venn diagram with three sections: sexual, platonic, and romantic, and it seems like most  _ relationships _ are made up of all three. Could something in the space overlapped by just  _ romantic _ and  _ platonic _ really be considered a relationship?

“You don’t have to fuck someone to love them,” Tim says softly. “To want to spend time with them, share your life and feelings and heart.”

“What you have with Brown, that’s not romantic. The kind of relationship you’re talking about… how is it not what you two have?"

“I don’t love her like that. I do love her, I respect and adore her, but it’s– it’s just different.”  

Jason wants to continue this conversation but his brain is starting to get foggy again, body heating up again. He says as much to Tim, who leaves, taking the empty bowl with him. 

The rest of the day passes in a haze of dildos and orgasms and gentle wet cloths, of favorite movies and pizza and naps. At one point Tim leaves to get more snacks and Yoo-hoo. He even comes back with a few more sets of bedding because the rate at which Jason is dirtying them is faster than Tim can wash them. 

Tim helps Jason into the bathtub and washes his hair, washes his body with an almost clinical detachment that Jason adores. It’s exactly what he needs. Any lingering touches would make him uncomfortable. Prey. Too much softness would make him feel condescended to. Inferior. 

By the next day Jason is so exhausted he can barely move, and he knows it would have been absolute hell to do this alone, as unprepared as he was. He knows too that it’s got to be over soon, one more day at the most. 

He’s lying on his bed (he is so sick of his bed) and the fire is growing. He feels like he’s being cooked from the inside out. It’ll be okay once he fucks it out, but he’s just so  _ tired. _ He is  _ tired _ and he is  _ hot. _

(For a split-second he considers shoving a popsicle right up his ass just to cool it down some, but that would be a whole new level of messy.)

Jason thinks about the situation for a few minutes, decides his discomfort has diminished to practically zero (which apparently is what happens when someone feeds you and washes you and tucks you into bed) and he should let himself have things, and then texts Tim. 

“What’s up? You alright?”

“No,” Jason sighs. “I need your help.” 

“With what?”

“I need you to fuck me,” Jason says. He holds up the long, clear glass dildo that’s become his favorite over the past thirty-six hours. “With this.” 

There’s a quiet pause and then, “No.”

“What?”

“You’re– you can’t consent right now. You don’t want me, it’s just the heat talking.”

Jason lifts his head enough to look at Tim. “You’re right, I don’t want you. I want this,” he waves the toy, “but my arm feels like it’s about to fall off from all the work it’s been doing so I need you to give me a hand.” He lets his head fall back. “I’m not so out of my mind on pheromones and endorphins that I can’t make this decision. Do I seem lucid to you right now?”

“...Yes.”

“That’s because I am. It hasn’t even really hit yet; it’ll be a few more minutes before I start getting fuzzy. But even then, I know what I do and don’t want. I could do this on my own, I just don’t want to.”

Still Tim hesitates. 

“Look, I appreciate it,” Jason says honestly. “You’re trying very hard not to take advantage of me and I respect that. But you’re not taking advantage. I swear. Just– like I said, keep your dick in your pants and it’ll be fine.” 

Jason considers and then adds, “Am I asking too much of you?” 

“No. Maybe.” Tim steps closer, comes up next to the bed. His dark hair hangs loose around his face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Jason replies instantly. “Are you?”

Tim nods. “I want you to feel good.”

_ I want you to feel good. _ Not,  _ I want to make you to feel good. _ It’s a little thing but actually it’s really huge, and Jason loves it. 

“Okay.” Tim swallows. “Okay. What  _ exactly _ do you want me to do?” 

“I want to lay on my front and not move an inch and be fucked by this toy.”

Tim slowly reaches out to take it. “I can do that,” he says firmly, evenly, and Jason isn’t sure if he really is that calm or if he’s doing a masterful job at not sounding too over-eager, at risk of scarring Jason away. He catches Jason’s eyes. “Thank you for trusting me.” 

It’s so sincere that Jason is almost embarrassed by it. 

“Right now?” Tim asks. 

“Actually can you go get me some more Gatorade first?” 

“Yeah! Yeah, hold on.” 

Tim comes back with an armful of Gatorade bottles in every flavor and his hair tied in a sloppy ponytail. 

Jason takes a deep drink that doesn’t help cool him down as much as he was hoping it would. He rolls over. It takes effort not to rub himself on the sheets. Then he realises he doesn’t need to stop himself. “Okay it’s here. I’m ready.” 

Tim lowers himself to sit, the weight dipping the mattress next to Jason. “Do you need any prep?” 

“God no, I’m so loose by now.” That has him squirming a little, and he feels the wetness starting to run down to his balls and across his thighs. Voice rough, “I’m ready, come on.” 

Gently, Tim uses one hand to spread his cheeks apart, letting him feel the cool air. Tim releases a shaky sigh. “Here we go,” he whispers. 

Then smooth glass is being rubbed up and down, around his hole, and Jason moans. It’s teased for a little longer, but pressed inside as soon as Jason starts moving back into it; Tim must have remembered that Jason doesn’t want to have to move. It goes slowly, further and deeper and drawing out a long, low, contented whine. He finds himself arching up into it for a better angle and then a pillow is being tucked underneath his hips for him to rest on, bent over just enough. 

“Perfect,” he sighs, ignoring the faltering breath behind him. “F-faster.”

And faster it goes. The pace picks up and he curls his fingers into the sheets. Digs his forehead into the mattress and gasps, “ _ Yes, _ fuck yes.” 

There’s a choked off noise, followed by the toy sliding in and out of him more forcefully.

He doesn’t really understand what Tim is getting out of this. If Jason were fucking someone with a toy, he wouldn’t be into it like Tim is right now. At most, he’d get pleasure from thinking about  it being done to him, about those moans being his own and how good he would feel. He supposes if he really liked the person he’d be happy that they were happy. 

Jason pulls his focus back to the moment, to his body and what it’s feeling. And what it’s feeling is pretty fucking great. The angle is different from what he’s been able to manage by himself, and there are twists and thrusts he hasn’t tried yet. He’s surrounded by  _ alpha, _ stronger than the last times now that one is actually in the room and producing even more pheromones in reaction to Jason, and it heightens every sensation. 

Bending one leg and pulling his knee in closer to his chest, Jason turns part-way on his side. The shift in position is just right to have the toy hitting his prostate, and Jason cries out. “Yes! God fucking  _ d-damn _ yes more,” he gasps.

He can feel the pounding all the way through his back and legs and down to his fingertips. He can feel himself being repeatedly stretched open, so, so easily now. He can feel the way his body pushes the toy each time it slides out, and pulls it each time it slides back in. He can feel the slick glide of smooth glass along his walls. He can feel so much. It’s not enough. 

“I– I need.” Jason sucks in air, swallows around his dry tongue. He can’t get the right words out, can’t get his brain and mouth to work together. “Wait,” he rasps.

Immediately, everything freezes. 

“Are you okay?” Tim asks, worried.

“I need the knot,” Jason is finally able to say. 

“A-are you sure? Won’t it hurt you?”

“This is what it’s  _ for, _ Tim.” Almost all of the toys Tim had brought (almost all of the toys on the market) include a wider part at the base that’s meant to simulate an alpha’s knot. Jason hasn’t felt like he’s needed it yet– in fact, the prospect of trying to fit that thing inside him had been vaguely horrifying– but he knows now with absolute certainty that his body is craving it, and the fire won’t go away without it this time. 

“Right,” Tim says faintly. He fucks the dildo into Jason a few more times and then pushes in, slowly, carefully, and just keeps pushing, and Jason can feel his hole stretching even wider, body trying to accomodate the intrusion. He has to remind himself to breathe. 

And then it’s fully inside him, resting against the inside of his rim, and Jason– 

“Fuck,” he whispers. 

He’s– 

“So  _ full, _ ” he whines. 

He’s on the edge of something incredible. 

“Move it. A little.” 

The toy is pressed in deep, at just the right angle, and it takes about five seconds for Jason to come with a shout. 

He whines into the bed even after it’s done, until the aftershocks have finished rippling through him. 

Tim asks, “Are you ready for me to pull it out,” and his voice sounds  _ ruined. _

Jason nods. 

With the utmost care, the toy is removed. Jason makes a small, hurt noise even though he’s not in pain. It’s just all so much. 

When he opens his eyes he can just barely see Tim, crouched down on the floor, bent over himself and fists curled up tight. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Fine,” Tim grits out. “I’m fine, I just. Need a minute. Need–” He groans, a broken, miserable sound. “I need to go. I’ll be back, I swear, I just need to go right now. I’m sorry.”

Tim stands and stumbles out of the room. A few seconds later Jason hears the front door slam. 

It’s a long few minutes until he can move again, his body just a slack puddle spread out over the bed, and he takes that time to think. 

He thinks maybe Tim wasn’t as okay with this as he said he was. 

That thought makes Jason feel like complete shit. 

Just because he can let himself have what he wants doesn’t mean he should take whatever he wants. 

Finally mustering up the strength to roll over on his back and prop his top half up on some stacked pillows, he finishes off a bottle of lemon Gatorade and waits. Anything more than that is beyond him for a while yet. 

Having dozed off, Jason’s not sure how long it takes for Tim to come back, but when he does he looks cool and collected. Mostly. 

“I’m sorry,” they both say. 

Tim frowns. “Why are you sorry?”

“Why are  _ you?” _

Tim’s holding a washcloth, and he cleans Jason as he speaks. “I didn’t stay and take care of you. You shouldn’t have had to wait.” 

“Are you kidding? It’s okay, Tim. I was fine. Besides, you did plenty.” Jason swallows. “Maybe too much.”

Tim pauses, looking up at Jason with startled, wide eyes. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, I think  _ I _ did something wrong. I shouldn’t have asked you to help me… like that. It was selfish and really unfair to you.”

Tim seems to think about that for a minute. He tosses the dirty rag in the hamper. “It was selfish. But I want you to be able to be selfish. I want you to be happy.”

“What about you being happy?”

“It makes me happy when you’re happy.”

“You didn’t look very happy when you ran out of here,” Jason points out. “Looked more like you were going to kill something.” 

“That’s because my stupid alpha brain was telling me to– do something I didn’t want to do.” 

“Still, I don’t think I feel good about treating you like… like a thing.” Jason was so worried about being treated like an object as an omega he didn’t consider he might be doing it to Tim. 

“I like it,” Tim insists. Jason pulls a face and Tim continues, “It sounds kind of bad when you say it like that, but I really do want it.”

Baffled, Jason asks, “How can you want that?”

“I think it’s not as big of a deal as you’re making it seem, Jason. I like you and want you to be happy and it makes me feel good to help you feel good. That’s what people do when they like someone.”

“But this is too one-sided,” Jason argues. “What you’re talking about is mutual, it’s a  _ relationship. _ We don’t have that.”

“Not necessarily. It’s not like you don’t care about me  _ at all, _ right? I know you’re not attracted to me, but I also know you respect me, otherwise you wouldn’t be so concerned right now. Besides, I wouldn’t do anything I truly had a problem with, even if you asked me to. I think this is just a matter of finding a way for us to… be us. Not to sound too cliche, but it doesn’t have to be constricted to a label. It can just be what we want it to be.” 

“That sounds like you want to be  _ together. _ ” 

“I want to spend time with you and watch those crappy sitcoms you secretly love and work cases together. I want to help you through your heats in any way you’re comfortable with. I want to know how you think and feel about every little thing.”

“And that would be enough for you?” Jason sits up straighter, crossing his legs and tugging the blanket over his lap, feeling cool for the first time in days. The heat must be breaking soon. “What if I never want anything more than that? What if I never feel like I could have sex with you or even kiss you?”

“Honestly? It was hard, just now, to keep myself from touching you. It’s been hard these past few days. It’s hard all the time. I always want to touch you. I always want to kiss you. Not always in a sexy way, just. Petting your hair or putting a hand on your arm. But I don’t want what you don’t want. As soon as I remember that you don’t want those things, I don’t want them.” 

Jason stares at him. “How long have you liked me like this?” 

Tim shrugs. “In some way, always.” 

That’s. That’s a lot to process. 

“That’s a lot to process,” Jason tells him. 

“Okay. Yeah, um. Do you want to watch a movie or something? Are you hungry?” 

“Wanna finish off that pizza with me?”

Tim blinks. “With you?”

“Yeah. Here.” Jason shifts to one side of the bed and pats the space next to him. 

Tim smiles. 

~

The heat rushes back just one more time, and Tim fucks him through it with a huge purple vibrator, and Jason sobs, ass in the air and finally,  _ finally _ feeling fulfilled. 

Tim stays for another twenty-four hours as Jason gets his strength back. 

And then he leaves. 

~

A few days later Jason calls Tim and asks him out for coffee. 

“You’re not obligated to, you know,” Tim says. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know. Thanks. But I want to.” 

“Well that’s just awesome,” Tim sighs, and it should sound sarcastic but instead is terrifyingly sincere. 

Jason smiles. 

~

EPILOGUE

~

“What in the hell are they _ doing? _ ” Jason yells at the tv. “Do you see these idiots?”

Shaking his head, Tim answers, “I see them.” 

“I can’t believe they’re gonna drag this crap out all season again.” Jason snaps off a bite of his blue popsicle– too forcefully, and it breaks, falling off the stick and onto the floor. “Shit.”

Tim laughs. 

“I really wanted that,” Jason whines. 

“You’re such a baby.”

“I’m in heat, this is when I get to be a baby.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you’re always a baby.”

“Yeah but this is when I get to be a baby without getting shit for it,” he says pointedly. He turns beseeching eyes over to Tim. “Honey, could you get me another one?” 

Tim rolls his eyes, but smiles. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be right back.” 

When Tim comes back, with a popsicle for each of them, he reclaims his seat leaning against the headboard and hands over Jason’s blue raspberry. 

Jason turns to give him a light kiss. “Thanks.”

Tim hums happily. “Tastes sweet.” 

On the nightstand there’s an assortment of toys and condoms, to cover all the bases for whatever Jason decides he wants. For whatever Jason and Tim decide they want. 

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? DID YOU? 
> 
> lol seriously though I would absolutely love to hear what you think! There's a lot of things I explored in this fic, a few that didn't really get meshed out, and I just want to know your thoughts on any of it :))
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


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